


Run Your Fingers Through My Hair

by ermengarde



Category: Adam Lambert (Fandom), Adam Lambert (Musician), American Idol RPF, Real Person Fiction, lambliff
Genre: Canon Queer Character, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-03
Updated: 2010-06-03
Packaged: 2017-10-09 21:45:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/91924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ermengarde/pseuds/ermengarde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something's wrong with Tommy, and Adam's going to fix him. He just needs to work out what the hell it is, first.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Run Your Fingers Through My Hair

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt from [](http://thrace-adams.livejournal.com/profile)[**thrace_adams**](http://thrace-adams.livejournal.com/) over in the DDP - this deviated from the prompt (it's practically the opposite of it, in fact) and it's taken me about a month. Sorry about that bb! This fic (which I'm really pleased with) had a LOT of help on its way. Thank you to [](http://angelnetgirl.livejournal.com/profile)[**angelnetgirl**](http://angelnetgirl.livejournal.com/), [](http://lokte.livejournal.com/profile)[**lokte**](http://lokte.livejournal.com/) and [](http://sorchasilver.livejournal.com/profile)[**sorchasilver**](http://sorchasilver.livejournal.com/) for letting me bounce things off your brains, particular thanks to [](http://lokte.livejournal.com/profile)[**lokte**](http://lokte.livejournal.com/) for pointing out that stopping the story isn't ending it (and thus adding another 2,500 words) and [](http://angelnetgirl.livejournal.com/profile)[**angelnetgirl**](http://angelnetgirl.livejournal.com/) for letting me be incredibly needy at her far more often than seems reasonable. [](http://the0neru.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://the0neru.livejournal.com/)**the0neru** is a total star for both Americ-picking and betaing despite the fact she's not in the fandom - coffee? Is on me.

Adam nearly drops his frap when his phone starts blaring out Chesney Hawkes; he _really_ needs to stop letting Monte fuck around with it, or he's going to get a reputation as a diva with horrible taste in ring tones. He manages to juggle his phone up to his ear, dealing with his drink and his wallet without having a terrible accident, and smiles thankfully at the girl holding open the door for him. She looks like she's just seen a ghost, so she's probably a fan...or one of the moral majority, but they'd tend to let the door go in his face.

"Hello?"

"Adam?" He recognizes the voice, but he's got no idea who it is...He knows a lot of people though, and it's a guy and he doesn't sound hysterical, so it's probably someone who's supposed to have his number.

"Yeah."

"It's Mike, Tommy's roommate?"

Mike sounds nervous and Adam's stomach drops through his boots. "Is he okay, what's happened? Where is he?"

"He's fine, he's here, just..."

"I'm on my way."

There's traffic the _whole way_ to Tommy's apartment and Adam's driving way too aggressively to be safe, too fast when he can get up any speed past a crawl. He gets away with it though, this time, and abandons his car more or less at the sidewalk.

Mike is actually waiting for him at the front door, and he puts his hand up to stop Adam barreling straight in.

"He's _fine_, calm down."

"Then what?" Adam's worried, and angry, and the adrenaline from the drive over is curdling in his stomach.

"When was the last time you saw him?"

Adam actually has to think about that, which is ridiculous. He's been in L.A. but he's been rushed off his feet doing press and seeing label people, all the dull parts of being a _rock star_, "uhhh, a couple of weeks ago, that night we went Knott's Berry Farm? He made me eat six tacos and five funnel cakes. I threw up for, like, an hour."

"You cut him off because he made you _eat too much_?" Mike sounds incredulous.

"No! I... we've spoken on the phone since then, I've just been busy." Adam's beginning to feel defensive, like he has to justify how he spends his time, which is ludicrous; he talks to Tommy more than he talks to his own dad.

"Well, Tommy hasn't left the apartment since then. He's barely left his _bed_."

Adam moves forward; if Tommy hasn't gotten out of bed in two weeks he must be really sick.

"Whoa, slow _down_." Mike's beginning to really fucking annoy him. "He's being really weird, and whatever it is it's something to do with _you_."

"Then let me..." Adam gestures into the apartment.

"I will, just calm the fuck down first. You break him, you've bought him, and I don't think you'd do well with Tommy's concept of good housekeeping."

Adam can't help bristling at that, Tommy's stayed at his place before and he was a great houseguest, and Mike finally fucking moves to let him in.

Tommy's room _stinks_. There are half-full takeout cartons littering the floor and it kind of looks like his closet mated with a dumpster and exploded. Tommy is probably one of the lumps on the bed, but it's not that easy to tell.

Adam picks his way across the floor and tries not to step in anything organic.

"Tommy?"

The biggest lump grunts at him, and pulls the comforter tighter over itself, so that's either Tommy or the monster that's eaten Tommy.

"What's wrong, are you sick?"

He's practically sitting on the bed and he still has to strain to hear "No, go _'way_."

  
"I'm not going anywhere baby, at least until I see your face and confirm you haven't been eaten by a troll."

There's a loud groan from the bed and the lump rolls over and flaps the comforter down. Tommy looks real bad; his hair is greasy and beginning to matt and his skin looks gray in the gloom. He really doesn't smell healthy, either. "See?" His voice sounds sore and petulant. "Not a troll."

"Then what, Tommy? You look like you're auditioning for a Romero movie and your room's turning into such a biohazard that your roommate got worried. Your _roommate_, whose idea of housekeeping is napalming the flies when they get too thick over the garbage pile in the lounge."

Tommy just pulls the comforter back up and ignores him.

  
Adam's absolutely no closer to working out what the hell's going on with Tommy, but at least he can try to keep him from contracting cholera. He grabs a bunch of garbage sacks from the kitchen and starts stuffing anything food-related into one and anything that might be rescued by a trip to the Laundromat into another. He also opens the drapes and cracks a window, which improves the atmosphere about a million percent. Tommy grunts his displeasure at the noise, but at least Adam knows he's alive.

He takes Tommy's laundry out to his car and shoves it in the trunk; he's double bagged it so the smell can't seep out so easily. He feels dirty and worried and angry and it's a horrible combination that's just bringing out all of his bossy, interfering, Adam-knows-best side. It's entirely possibly that he _does_ know best though; Tommy's barely moved since he arrived and Tommy's room mates are worse than fucking useless. What_ever_ it is that's wrong with Tommy is not being helped by not eating right and living in a garbage heap. Adam takes a deep breath (outside) and rolls his shoulders back, goes back into Tommy's room, goes through his drawers and finds some ancient pajama pants and an old, holey hoodie.

"Tommy, you're coming with me."

The only response is another grunt, which Adam chooses to take as assent. Tommy is naked when he pulls off the comforter, and Adam is shocked at how thin he looks. He's always been slim, slight, but right now he looks fragile and that's new. Adam is so worried that he doesn't even take the chance to size up Tommy's junk and that shit's not right.

Tommy tries to curl up into a fetal ball, but he doesn't resist Adam dressing him _too_ much.

He _does_ protest when Adam picks him up and slings him over his shoulder, but that's probably more to do with being upside down than anything else.

  
Tommy's sleeping again, completely sacked out on the back seat, by the time Adam's driven them home. Adam pulls into the garage and leaves Tommy there while he sorts out the laundry, shoving everything into the machine with far too much detergent. He's going to let the cycle run through at least twice before he touches it again.

Adam's got a real nice guest room set up, but the tub's in his own ensuite so he starts that filling while he changes the sheets on his bed and digs around for something clean Tommy can wear that won't totally drown him. Whatever's wrong with Tommy, he's going to be clean and comfortable and fed. Then Adam can fix whatever else is going on.

He adds a little bit of foaming bath oil to the water figuring Tommy might want the privacy of the bubbles or whatever, and goes back down to the car. Tommy's still sleeping and he doesn't protest when Adam lifts him up - he carries him cradled in his arms this time, the anger's faded to concern - he just buries his face in Adam's neck and clings to Adam's shirt.

"Come on baby, I need you to stand up for a moment." Adam's reluctant to put Tommy down when he's holding on so hard.

There's a whiny grunt that could possibly be _why?_ which shouldn't really be adorable.

"Because I need to put you in the tub, and I need to take your clothes off first."

Tommy sighs and lifts his head to glare at Adam. "Don' _wanna_ bath."

"You stink Tommy, so you either cooperate and get in this lovely warm bath I've fixed you or I dump you in the shower and turn it on cold."

"Mean," Tommy grumbles, but he lets Adam go and he stays vertical when Adam puts him down. He does seem to have reverted to early childhood though and just stands there, looking at Adam, waiting.

"Okay, fine." Adam's not exactly the most patient person he knows but at least he's gentle when he pulls off Tommy's hoody and shoves down his pants. Tommy does, thankfully, step into the bath by himself.

Tommy just sits in the water, watching Adam gather up his clothes and ignoring the soap and shampoo Adam laid out for him. Adam doesn't know who this _is_, Tommy can be passive, clingy, whatever, but he's also a funny little bitch and he's never seen Tommy's face so blank, no little smile, no glee that Adam's picking up after him or bitchface that Adam's treating him like a two-year-old, nothing.

"Baby, do you want me to wash your hair?"

Tommy says nothing, but he slides lower in the water and tips his head back so Adam takes that as a yes. He grabs the cup he keeps by the sink and dips it into the bathwater, starts pouring it over Tommy's hair, wetting it, rinsing it out. The shampoo he put out is gentle and moisturizing, especially for colored hair, and as he massages it into Tommy's scalp he tries to gently work out the knots. Tommy lets out another sigh, but this one sounds a little happier, satisfied.

"Tommy, what's wrong?" Tommy tenses. "Have I done some..."

"No." Tommy's almost whispering. "No, it's..... It's stupid." He sits up, pulling away from Adam.

"Baby, the shampoo..."

Tommy ducks backward, submerging himself in the tub and sits back up, coughing.

"Hey, hey..." Adam rubs his back, trying to gentle him through bringing half the bathwater back up out of his lungs.

They stay like that for a long time, Tommy sitting, knees up, head bent down, Adam rubbing his back.

"Adam, are you ashamed of me?" Tommy's voice is so quiet that Adam can hardly hear it over the AC.

"What? No, Tommy, no, of course I'm not, what..." Adam can't even work out what he feels about that, let alone what he wants to say.

Tommy doesn't lift his head and Adam's never hated Tommy's bangs before but right now he's hiding behind them.

"Baby, is that what this is all about? You think I'm _ashamed_ of you? I don't.... you're awesome on stage you know? It wouldn't be the same up there without you."

"So why'd'you shut down anyone who says anything about us being out at places?" Tommy's back goes all tense and he hugs his knees in even closer to his chest like he's trying to disappear. "Like that girl who took pictures of us at the taco place? Or the..."

"...Baby! I didn't do that because I was _ashamed_! I just... it's Roger's _job_ to control my image you know?"

"And that doesn't include me." Tommy sounds sulky

"No! It _does_ include you, it totally includes you, that's why I had him close down that stuff before it got too far, you don't need all that shit with people asking if you're gay every two minutes, I know it bothers you when people ask if we're together..."

"Because we're not."

"Exactly! You don't need some girl second guessing if she's going to be your beard or whatever."

"No, Adam." Tommy lets go his knees and sits up, pushing back into Adam's hand. "I don't like people asking if we're together _because we're not_."

"Uhh." Adam's really not at all sure what's going on here.

"It's just as well you're pretty Lambert, because you sure ain't smart." And Tommy kisses him, sloppily, at a weird angle, all teeth and bruises, and it's fucking amazing even if Tommy's mouth smells a little like a dog's, and eventually Adam gets with the program enough to move down a little, bring his hands up around Tommy's head and he's getting soaked with the bathwater Tommy's spilling over the side of the tub, but maybe he won't need these clothes soon anyway. Maybe... His dick's hard enough to hammer fucking nails and Tommy's overwhelming all his senses, but there are alarm bells ringing so loud that he can't ignore them.

Tommy actually whines a little when Adam pulls back and he leans towards Adam, pushing up on the sides of the tub and tries to follow him. Adam moves his hands down to Tommy's shoulders and holds him still. This is… this is _amazing_ and not what he expected at all, but Tommy's gone zero to sixty in a snap and Adam's never been a huge fan of burying problems in fucking; it had screwed things up with Brad for way too long after the dust settled and fucking his straight _employee_... Yeah. This. He needs to stop this.

Tommy lets go and falls back into the water with a splash. There's more water on the floor than in the tub now, and Tommy's skin is pebbled with goosebumps. Adam can see his dick's been enjoying the action too, and _fuck_ he wants to get his mouth around that but he can also see Tommy's ribs and the sharp cut of his hipbones and there's slim and heroin chic and whatever, and then there's this malnourished famine victim look he's got going on and that _means something_. Adam has a responsibility to him and he's not going to screw that up.

Adam sucks in a deep breath and tries to steady himself against the whirl of thoughts inside his head. "Okay, baby, so…" He moves his hand round to the back of Tommy's neck and squeezes gently and Tommy pushes into his hand like some kind of cat. "Can we go back a little? To where you've been hiding in your room and not eating right?"

"I've been eating fine." Tommy bristles and shakes off Adam's hand. "I just figured..."

"Figured what, baby? Figured that you'd terrify the crap out of everyone that cares about you? Figured you'd try and rock the twink hooker look? 'Cause I gotta tell you it doesn't work on you." Adam's jeans are wet and clinging and uncomfortable and his knees hurt.

Tommy _finally_ looks him in the eye. "Figured that maybe you didn't want people to know we hang around together, that we're _friends_, because you were ashamed that I eat like a frat boy. Isn't that what you said before you started laughing with Brad about how you didn't know how my stomach could handle all that crap? About how you'd need to diet for weeks to get back in shape?"

"I _never_ fucking said I was ashamed. Never." Adam's practically shaking, he's so angry, and he needs to get out of this room. "The towel's on the rail. Mop up the floor before you come out."

  
Fighting's not always a passion killer for Adam, make up sex is awesome, but whatever just happened in the bathroom's left him feeling too big for his own skin and more turned off than he's ever been in his life. He figures it's probably just as well when he peels off his soaked jeans; an erection would have made that even more unpleasant.

He's pacing the room, barefoot in his sweats, by the time Tommy makes it out of the ensuite; he's as naked as the day he was born, and his chin's up, proud, although he won't meet Adam's eye. "I left the towel in the tub, it was dripping wet and I figured you wouldn't want it in the hamper." He crosses his arms defiantly over his chest and Adam's heart breaks a little. Tommy looks about 14, terrified and hiding it badly.

"Tommy." Adam breathes deep. "Just," He picks up the sweats and t-shirt he'd laid out earlier. "Put these on, I need to talk to you."

"There's nothing to talk about." Tommy's turned his back to get dressed, and Adam can see that his already skinny ass is now barely anything but bone. "I thought you were ashamed of me, but you're not, I thought you liked me, but you don't. We go back to rehearsals in a week, so you've got more than enough time to replace me if you want to."

Adam's holding Tommy before he even knows he's moved. Holding him tight and close like he's never, ever going to let go. And he's not sure that he ever wants to.

"I do _not_ want to replace you. Glamily, remember? Tommy, please, I need to know what the fuck's been going on in your head." He walks them backwards towards the bed. He needs to sit the fuck down.

Adam doesn't let go, just sits and pulls Tommy down with him so he's sitting in Adam's lap, and it's all Adam can do not to gather him up like a baby and hold him tight and close and safe.

"Okay, so, we went out, had a great night, I said how jealous I was that you can eat whatever you please and that turned into I don't even know what in your head; and now you're skin and fucking bone and making out with me. I don't know how to connect the fucking dots baby, help make the connections."

Tommy's shaking his head, no, like Adam's not summed up what's happened the last two weeks at all. "No. You auditioned me, and you liked me enough to have me learn a whole other instrument and come back again, even though there were bassists in that room who're much, much better than me, then you kissed me on national television, took me on tour with you, talked about me being involved in writing shit for the next album, took me places, flirted with me on twitter, just...showed me off like I was your arm candy and I _liked it_. I've been scrubbing around doing this shit for years. I live in a crappy room in a crappy place and yeah, I've fucked groupies and starfuckers who couldn't get close enough to the real talent, but no one's ever treated me like I'm important before. No one's ever sent a car for me or taken me on vacation to fucking _Cabo_. No one's ever treated me like I was special and they were showing me off. And then you just stopped." Tommy sighs. "You never come near me on stage any more unless I'm right there behind you, forcing it, you never invite me to press things any more, you shut down anything that might, possibly, tell the internet that we've been in the same place at the same fucking time, you bring _Brad_ when we go out..."

Adam's opening and closing his mouth like a fish. He really has no fucking idea what's going on in Tommy's head. "I thought you liked Brad? He likes you."

"I _do_. I just don't want your ex along all the time." Tommy swallows and his belly rumbles. "And I figured maybe you'd like me better if I was more like him; skinny and holistic food and all that shit. I don't like wheatgrass though."

Adam can't help but snort at that. "Nobody likes wheatgrass, it's nasty shit. Brad just drinks it because he doesn't eat enough real food to get any vitamins. And I like you better when you're not so fucking bony. I _like_ that you eat enough tacos to keep the industry going all on your own. Fuck it, I like that you snag half my food when we're out, too." Adam buries his nose in Tommy's hair, breathes in the clean scent. "Baby, I just wanted to protect you. I've been single for so long and I know the fans keep putting that down to you; I've seen how you are with Monte's kids and I want that for you some day, I don't want you to miss out because someone thinks we're fucking. You don't need that hanging over your head."

"You want me to have babies?" Tommy sounds completely confused.

"Not right now, but someday, when you're ready and you want them, yeah. I want you to have that option. You'll have gorgeous babies" Adam can't help smiling at that image. "I'm going order you some food, okay? It'll be a little while, so maybe you can sleep while we're waiting?"

Adam really, really doesn't want to let Tommy go, but he does, and if he tucks him in a little tight, well, Tommy's sick so that's okay. Tommy's eyes are unreadable as he kisses him on the forehead and goes to dig the takeout menus out of the drawer he's hidden them in.

  
Adam's possibly gone a little overboard with the food ordering, but he needs to do _something_ and it's not like the leftovers won't keep. Besides, Tommy's practically starving so he needs vegetables and salad and soup and good bread and protein (and tacos and burritos and sugar) and so fucking what that he's just reeled off half the menu? It's not like he can't afford it.

He busies himself in the kitchen, getting a tray and paper towels and silverware and water; he's still got a lot he needs to discuss with Tommy and that's not a conversation to be interrupted by a delivery guy.

He sits on one of the kitchen stools, waiting for the door to buzz, picking at his nail polish; the black sparkles flaking onto the counter. Tommy's tried to explain what's going on but it just doesn't make _sense_; the misunderstanding about the publicity, okay, Adam gets that and maybe he should have explained it before he called and got it handled, but the rest? The stuff about being on stage wasn't even true, and then Tommy had _kissed_ him and… Adam drops his head into his hands. And then Tommy had kissed him and it was like being on stage in front of the biggest audience in the world and Adam wants that again. He wants that again so bad, but Tommy doesn't, not really, Tommy's all fucked up in the head and Adam needs to straighten him back out.

He chokes out a mirthless little laugh and stares at the front door, willing the food to hurry up.

Tommy's still awake when the food arrives, lying in Adam's bed, in Adam's clothes, and the _look_ he gives Adam as he walks through the door makes Adam's heart turn over in his chest.

"Sit up, baby, I didn't really know what you'd feel like, so I got, uhm."

"You got everything on the menu." Tommy smiles at him and scoots back up the bed. "Are we having a picnic?

Adam's starving, today's been a rollercoaster, and Tommy needs to eat so maybe a picnic's a good idea. Calling it a picnic's definitely a good idea, usually the only food he allows near these sheets is strictly for recreational purposes; strawberries, melted chocolate, champagne, a little cream maybe, nothing that makes crumbs, so eating in bed with Tommy… maybe he should have thought this out better.

Tommy's going through the containers on the tray, opening, sniffing, sticking a finger in and swiping a taste, and he looks more like himself than he has since Adam went charging in to rescue him.

"Hey, this is really _good_!" Tommy's holding out the cheese bread and Adam tears off a little. It is good, warm and comforting.

  
Adam doesn't quite trust whatever fragile peace they have at the moment enough to sit up next to Tommy, so he sits crossed legged at the foot of the bed and passes Tommy the containers with soup, vegetables, chicken salad, encouraging him to eat healthy first before he digs into the crap.

"You're worse than my mom, you know? How many vegetables do I have to eat before you give me dessert?"

"Enough so you don't get scurvy. Then I'll be feeding you all of this crap." Adam waves his hand over the burrito-taco-chocolate side of the tray and Tommy snorts into his soup.  
"Okay, I get that you don't like me skinny, Adam, but you really don't need to turn into a feeder, you know?" Tommy makes a slightly disgusted face then smiles at him. "Thank you for buying me dinner though, and..." He starts intently dissecting his soup. "You know, for everything else.

"That's okay, baby; it's what friends do, right?"

"Mike didn't, Mia didn't...." Tommy glances up at him through his bangs. "Just Prince Adam in his shiny black amor."

"Okay, look, Tommy, I get that all of this is related to me somehow, but I still really don't know why - you've been in the industry long enough that I know it's not about knowing that you're good enough, you _know_ you're good enough or you'd have washed out long before you rocked up to the audition, and you know I like you; I see you more than anyone else in the band, and I've known Monte for ever, hell I see you more than I see Danielle, and you _know_ that. I'm worried about you, this all just..." Adam bites at the inside of his lip. "I'll come get you any time you need me to, but I need for you to tell why you needed me to, this time."

"Fuck, Adam. I." Tommy puts down his food and pushes his bangs back off his face. "Adam, I love you."

"I love you too, baby."

"No. Adam, you don't. Not like that. You care, sure, and I hoped so hard that we could do this, but I fell for you and you've been hurting me for so long. I don't know if I can do this any more."

Adam feels like someone's pulled a plug out of his chest and his heart's swirling out down the drain. He just sits there, stupefied, as Tommy puts the tray to one side and gets out of the bed, as he walks towards the door.

"...Don't." Adam's barely making a sound, just whispers out in desperation.

And Tommy stops.

"Don't what?"

"Go. Don't go. Stay. Here, stay here with me."

"_With_ you?"

"Yes." Tommy's turned and he's walking back towards him and Adam doesn't know if he's allowed to hope for this but he wants to and he wants this and he... He pulls Tommy down to him and kisses him, tells him everything he feels with his lips and tongue and his hands.

It's so fucking _chaste_, barely even first base, but it feels so intimate, like Tommy's right inside his soul.

"I couldn't have left, anyway. You didn't bring me any shoes." Tommy's smiling at him, happy and mischievous and _his_ and they start laughing, happiness bubbling out almost touchable.

"Maybe my subconscious is smarter than I am?"

"Take away my shoes and I'll stay with you forever?"

"Maybe."

"Sounds good to me."

  
The food on the tray goes cold and inedible before Adam can get it into the fridge and there are crumbs in the bed and Adam just doesn't give a fuck.


End file.
